A guide to survive the zombie apocalypse by Joy Felicity Kingsworth:
1. Get yourself a cute best friend who you've known since childhood.
2. Form an emotional attachment to a weapon and food item.
3. Lose your sanity.
4. Join a group whose sole purp...
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Ep. 7 "Down The Mississippi" Ch. 3/8
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Joy used to love swimming, she'd always be found at pools whenever her parents had dragged her to fancy pants hotels because they had business meetings.
Granted, it did concern a couple of onlooker parents, watching a five-year-old girl with her flowered floaties jumping into the deep end of pools with no adult supervision. But nothing a couple of 'Yo no hablo inglés' or 'I don't speak Spanish' couldn't solve.
But swimming for her life and having to use her little legs to kick at underwater Z's faces definitely ruined the experience for her.
•——— ——— —•——
Joy spat out a mouthful of water on to the dirty shore, the entire bottom half of both her tank top and jeans were ripped to shreds after a couple of dozen of sharp Z nails and jagged rocks.
She might've not liked shopping, but she was forcing Addy and Warren to go get new clothes because she sure as hell wasn't walking around in a shredded tank top that was more of a crop top and non-fashionable jeans filled with holes.
"10K!" Was it stupid of Joy to yell his name at the top of her lungs in the middle of a potentially dangerous shore of the Mississippi River? Yes.
Was Joy still doing it? Also yes.
"Ten!" Joy stumbled on her own feet as her rubber soles slipped on the wet rocks below her, whoever designed those shoes really should've thought of the apocalypse and how impractical they'd become when wet.
"Jefferson!" As Joy kept yelling, her voice seemed to start to annoy birds who flew right off their branches when they heard her, as if her voice was just as annoying as Murphy's.
She twisted her hair to force the water out of it, Joy had been educated in the art of old wive's tales by Gina, and she didn't intend to get sick by walking around dripping from head to toe in cold water. And at least if she could wring some water out of her being, she'd possibly dry faster than she could catch a cold. That was her way of thinking at least.
"Jefferson!" Just like every other time she yelled, Joy received no reply, not even when she began moving across the shore and yelled in different parts.
"Screw it. Tommy! Thomas! Asshole!" Absolutely no reply.
Panic was really setting in Joy. She liked being alone, but by choice, not force. And though she may be dumb in numerous subjects, Joy did know that she wouldn't last long in the apocalypse alone, she knew the basics, but not enough to survive.
She knew how to eat, but not what. She knew where to go, but now how to get there. Likewise, she knew where to sleep, but not for how long. Call her clingy, useless, whatever adjective you can think of, she'd possibly called herself most of them already, but even if she could by some spurt of luck survive, Joy didn't want to do it alone.
